A Choice of Duty
by Deadly Off Topic
Summary: Alistair must cope with what he feels is a betrayal of all he holds dear while Elissa deals with the aftermath of a choice made. And finally Alistair and Elissa deal with a choice noone ever expected to see.  4/4 parts
1. Chapter 1

A Choice of Duty

By Deadly off Topic

Rage was an easy word to say, but an even easier emotion to cling to it if one didn't have the will power, the mere presence of mind, to force it back into the churning, tumultuous depths it had come from. Why bother with it, why not let it surge and throw itself wild like the waves of a ferocious storm at sea? Because only a fool railed against the wind like a madman allowing himself to burn, to let himself be devoured, destroyed, by that chaotic madness. But Alistair pushed at it, held it back with a barely controlled line of forced calm... though barely. The line was thin, brittle... anything could make it snap... anything he carelessly let in... like Elissa.

"I don't get her. This is NOT like her, it's NOT right!" Righteous anger hung in his words, words he knew he had every right to spit tooth and nail at, but dare he say more... reveal the betrayed, suffering man this newly made king was. Gah! It was all wrong anyway. Why did it matter to hold onto what little self-control he had? "I should have known it would come out like this. I NEVER get what I want." Lowering his head to the cool, familiar feel of stone, Alistair rested for a moment against the curved window that brought in the heady, autumn air. He didn't look out, knowing full well that to take in the evening's daily salute of nightfall, retreating beyond the valleys and hills still visible from this side of Eamon's castle walls, would make him feel no comfort at all. He was trapped in this gilded cage, there was no mistaking that.

"Alistair, I'm sure there are reasons for what she felt she had to do." Wynne's matronly voice, soft and soothing as honey, drifted between them as she laid an outstretched hand onto his shoulder. Though she wore her formal robes of red silk fastened with a cord of gold, her silver-white hair was held back into a tight bun making her appear a lot sterner than her voice and her demeanor allowed. Instinctively, Alistair stiffened at her touch making Wynne draw away with pity in her face. "You don't need to shut the rest of us out too, Alistair. This is NOT like you."

"I'm not. I just... that is... I don't know who she is anymore," the whisper was hoarse, aimed more for himself, as he turned about to face the mage. "Why did she do this? Why side with Loghain after all he's done - all he's betrayed?" The stone behind him cut into his back, its hard substance an unwieldy reminder of how unmovable things - people - could be. "I thought she understood... I thought we shared an ...understanding," and here he dare not mention the word love in all it's painful incarnations. Nor of hot smouldering bodies melting away the last of fall's lingering chill or of intimate conversations where souls were bared, swallowed whole and intertwined.

Wynne's fingers were dappled with age and yet still retaining a firmness - a toughness that came from the strong woman within - as they dared to move forward again to, this time, brush back a loose strand of golden brown hair that had fallen free against Alistair's face. The gesture was both a reflex of matronly care and a friend's condolence. It was also a gesture that sapped at the boiling rage that had been pounding away at him, leaving Alistair to feel a disquiet weight of emptiness come slowly in. He didn't like the feeling. It left an ache that was too big to close. "Whose is to say what she thinks, Alistair. She has never been one to share her thoughts. She has tried countless times to go at this thing alone... to work, as it were, in the shadows as if she were the only one there. In that regard she is too similar to Morrigan, a trait I wish they did not share."

Looking up into Wynne's wise, experienced eyes and knowing full well that his meager attempt at shielding his own trouble pain was all too visible, Alistair wished he could grasp at the floundering spark of rage and to rekindle it. He needed it so much right now. This was NOT the time to drown in despair and heart ache when he had no other choice but to be a strong king leading his subjects to victory against this darkspawn blight. Yet, he was only human. It was impossible or Alistair to be both filled with light and be a beacon of light when his whole purpose of being had ripped out and stomped on by the one woman in the whole world he had devoted his soul, his reason for existence to.

But Alistair was going to have to do something though. Exert a hell of a lot of control over his thoughts, perhaps herd them together and buried them. To tied them with cord... the way his warden would do if she was in this position. NO, she wasn't HIS any more! And yet that pounding of rage that Wynne had unfairly stolen from him, left him weak... his voice when he spoke again was too pained, too self-reflective. "I run the Landsmeet in my mind over and over again - I try to read meaning into a word said here, a word there... I try to curdle all arguments and figure out what went wrong... I find no way to - to..."

"Give it an outcome other than what has happened?" Her voice was soft, kind - much the way he'd think his mother's voice would be if his had lived. Even Wynne's touch as she adjusted his dark clothing, smoothing the collar and fixing a billowy sleeve, made him feel like a little boy. "You shouldn't be doing this to yourself Alistair. It's already said and done... torturing yourself will not bring her back. You won't get her back like that."

"Who said I want her back?" But he knew that he trembled when he said the words and that turning from Wynne to stare out at the courtyard outside was his small attempt to bury the truth of what she has just said. "I am to be king and I can have anyone I want. I might be spared with a little grace in choosing a wife for now, but what does it matter. In time Arl Eamon will no doubt suggest I wed - if not Anora, some other noble household's daughter. It would serve _her_ right if I did." The venom in those words left him breathless. "I wonder how she'd feel with me and another woman... I doubt she'd care."

"For love of both you and her, I rather not answer that question, Alistair." Her dark red robes shifted against her feet as she drew away a little, as if to pace. Wynne was clearly agitated. "It would not be fair of me to take sides. I love you both... dearly."

"Oh Wynne, I didn't mean it as a... I don't know." His frustration made him stiffen, placing both palms flat on the cold stone of the window ledge. His dark eyes, unreadable. "I'm just so... I haven't been this angry since Eamon sent me to the Chantry... I feel so -so"

"Betrayed?"

"Ugly word that is, but... I guess your right." He shifted again and sat himself on the ledge, arms crossed against his chest folding the rich fabric into a multiple of distorted creases. When he spoke there seem to fall a numbness, a sort of false calmness that his yammering heart ironically contested against. "She betrayed me. The woman I loved most in the world has stabbed me in the back. But hey, why should I complain? I got made King out of it, something I have NEVER wanted and she knew very well I NEVER wanted it. Surprisingly, I am taking it pretty well."

Wynne was quiet a moment. What could she say to that when everyone in their small, closely knit party knew Alistair's feelings about being king. When she found her voice again, she seemed subdued. "I don't think the shock of most of it has worn off yet. Alistair I-"

"You don't think? Ha, if this is just the tip of the iceberg, I don't want to know what the rest will beach up." It might not have been the full-blown rage breaking and snapping that fine line of control, but the anger that had come was welcome to him... it gave Alistair something to feel instead of the empty despair chewing him to bits. This at least filled places in him that let Alistair move forward - to do SOMETHING. He just had to go with it, let it feed him enough so that he could at least carry through this night and the ensuring battle that would follow after their forced march to Denerim tomorrow. "But you know what bothers me more than letting that traitor live... the fact that they made both made him a Warden... Being a Gray Warden is NOT a punishment!" He ground the words when he meant to just whisper them so they echoed in the chamber as if he had thrown an accusing finger into the air. "She went against everything I believed in. Every grain of it. You can't forgive that can you? You can't just say, "Hey, dear, I understand you had a moment lapse of judgment," right?"

"But that's what you want though." Cutting words so sharp that Alistair's wounded look left Wynne feeling a tad guilty though her words had been necessary to snap Alistair out of this on and off again roller coaster ride of emotion. "And don't look at me like that... you look like one of my students who just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar he was told he could go into."

Alistair slid from his sit and adjusted his tunic that had ridden up before drifting slowly towards Wynne. "I just feel like one second I can talk to you and then the next I get this slap in the face as if I should know better." He could hear the growing sound of footsteps that were echoing from the open door leading to the hall outside and it made him wonder who else was awake this night. By the sound of it, they were coming quickly.

"Perhaps you should- Good heavens, Leliana? What is the matter? You're shaking and so white." Whatever Wynne might have said to Alistair was lost after that as they both stood watching the bard panting deeply and crouched over with her hands resting on her knees.

It took a good handful of seconds before Leliana could stand and speak which gave both Alistair and Wynne more than enough of an opportunity to see that the woman was geared up as if she expected a fight to erupt - or as if she expected to soon join one. Thick dark leather clothing, short swords and daggers belted at the waist together with a quiver and bow slung over her left shoulder. She definitely was going all out. "'lissa's gone. She left us behind!"

"What do you mean gone? This is some mistake, yes?" Wynne sounded doubtful, but Alistair already knew and it didn't take that gut wrenching, sinking feeling to strike it home either. Although it was there, heavy in his body.

He came to stand between them, a tall figure between the shorter two, and his face looked suddenly aged beyond his years. "Not only does she stab me in the back, but she's gone off to deal with this without us. ... like Howe's castle." Absently his hand clenched at the side as he remembered the self-inflicted pain she'd tried to drive into him - into all of them - to trick them into not going with her to face that murderous bastard Howe. "I should have seen this coming."

"She can't protect everyone if she goes alone. Surely she knows the Blight has numbers that will overwhelm her." Wynne's practicality makes him wince, but her next words slam him below the belt. "This is crazy. That's a suicide mission if I ever heard one. Is she going there to die?"

"When it comes to her heart, she's far from practical, Wynne." It's Leliana whose spoken, her Orlesian accent making the words stick in their smooth tone. "I know the both of you think she's some cold, calculated thinking machine, but she's more than that... she's always been thinking ahead. Always doing stuff to protect us. You know how much she cares about us Wynne...how much she loves you, Alistair."

"Love? Right." But though Alistair's words sound full of bravado, he instead is feeling the all too real need of wanting to bury his face in the sand. Run away! Leave it all behind and to NOT care about what happens... especially to her... let it go. Deep down though, he knows that what Leliana has said is true. Everything Elissa has ever done in any way or form was always to protect those she held dear - those she loved. Top of the line and always. And in the blinking of the eyes, Leliana's brash, quick words had done something that Wynne in all her subtle, matronly kindness could not have done. Given him the key to Elissa's motive.

What better way to protect someone by making them think you didn't love them. And by the Maker, Elissa was very good at making someone think she didn't care. So good that Alistair had brooded and raged in this room for most of the night while she slipped out the other end of the castle undetected. How in the Maker's good name had she been raised to shoulder the brunt of everything and NOT let anyone else in to help.

Before he can speak though, Leliana shifts towards the doorway and looks nervous, "There's more. When I found out what she did, I went to check on the others quickly, that's why I was out of breath getting to you. Zevran, Loghain and Riordan are gone... so is most of your army." Leliana's face had paled unnaturally so that it was stark against her blood red hair and clear blue eyes. "She's gone ahead to deal with the Archdemon herself with Arl Eamon and his soldiers."

"By the Maker!" And the thin line crack, exploded and flew apart under his oath. If he could have hit something, he would have done so. "What? Did no one stop her, think to come tell their king, "Hey, this female Warden has stolen half your fighting force?" His face was purple with unbridled rage. "What are these people doing here? WHAT IS SHE DOING?"

"Sounds like she planned to leave us behind and that she convinced the Arl to do the same. I can say that might make sense in wanting to keep the king alive," and Wynne had the good grace not to look at Alistair as she said this, "but she took the others... Without us... what was she thinking... if she should fall in battle, she has no healer. She needs a healer."

Alistair's heart had exploded in his chest, something he was shocked to realize he still had beating in there despite the number of times it had hammering into his throat. "She took, with the exception of Riordan, two men who have tried to kill her, over me. Over us," and though he amended the last part, he saw the look Wynne and Leliana shared. Saw it and didn't care. Didn't have time to. If he was to get to Denerim, he'd have to start now and that meant getting his armour and his weapons as well as a very fast horse.

"Where are you going Alistair?" Wynne called back and for the first time Alistair realized, he had walked out the doorway and into the narrow halls of the corridor with his head held high...with purpose.

"I'm going to get MY warden back and I'm going to kick the ass out of any darkspawn who get in my way."

Author's Note:

Plans: Two parter if possible.

Reasoning: There were several things I wanted to do with this story, half of them of I haven't even touched on yet, but with respect to Alistair... I wanted to show his suffering and I also wanted to give him a viable, legit reason to take back the Grey Warden he feels betrayed him. I think the problem for me stems from reading too many fanfics where Elissa and Alistair part badly after the Landsmeet only to get back together afterwards with her treating Alistair poorly over decisions SHE MADE and with Alistair only being too happy to forgive and forget. Oh, I'm quite sure he'll take Elissa back at some point, but he needs a pretty damn good reason to after she comprised his morals.

Time worked: September 15, 2010/October 12, 2010


	2. Chapter 2

May 12, 2011

A Choice of Duty

By Deadly Off Topic

Part 2

"I did not realize that you were interested in such things." The surprise in Loghain's voice was there for those who knew how to read him, echoing through those heavy-handed words in small rippling currents to peer shyly among the waves. "It - it is amazing." He was running his callus fingers slowly over the numerous arrays of the maps Elissa had given him with an almost sort of reverence. Some of these were old with edges frayed and tattered, but the love and care in keeping them preserved was there - evident in the way someone had cared for the vellum and kept it well oiled.

"I figured you might gleam some sense in these. Perhaps find some route into the city where the fighting might be at the least resistance so that we can wedge ourselves in." Her stance with him was always neutral - always careful - as if she were a child awaiting the fickle attention of a drunken parent who might lash out with one mighty punch when her attention was the most diverted. Given how deep the waters ran between them, Elissa knew that any so called trust they shared was fragile, almost brittle to say the least. Everything done now had to be done with care - with deliberate intention. After all, Howe had taken so much from her and he had done so beneath Loghain's protective shadow. _Under Loghain's authority._

"Some of these yes, but these here? Where did you get all these? This is Highever and-" Whatever other maps he might have named died in his throat as he looked over at her and realized the implication of that name - of that place. Brown eyes and sea-green eyes collided in a clash of unsaid words. Words that would have been detrimental, to put it mildly, to both of them if they had only been said.

Why were her lips hurting? And belatedly Elissa realized that she was frowning to stem the flood of words that wanted to pool over... to scream out. This was not the time nor the place to make such a mistake. Anger and betrayal... all that emotional pain that had driven her to seek revenge against Howe and the man who had been instrumental in giving Howe that power... it had no place here. She needed to get to the Arch-Demon - it had to die before anything she needed to say - had to say... could ever be allowed out. For that she needed to keep the fragile peace between Loghain and herself.

Instead with stiff fingers she trailed over the vellum, allowing the brisk, bitter movement to speak where her tone of voice was not allowed to go. At least not yet. "It doesn't matter. I collected them once. I- won't need them any more." Expelling breath, she looked back at him, her gaze more neutral now as if those words had found a way to bring under control all the upheaval that was walloping beneath her skin.

"I... see." Loghain reached for the map she had indicated and his gaze was the hardened gaze borne of a soldier that has survived more battles then he should have been allowed to. "This is not a casual thing you have done." And with those words said he turned that hardened gaze and let it drift from the makeshift table they had erected some ells from the city - a final regrouping point where they would gather the last of their army before making the final push into the city.

"No. It is not." Elissa was surprised she could spare the truth in those words where truth was a powerful commodity in this dangerous game she was playing with Loghain... this cat and mouse game where he was no longer the cat and she was no longer the mouse. "But I was told once by my father that you had an inkling for such things." A fascination was closer to the truth, but none of this was important anymore. They had to focus on Denerim and the dark spawn - anything else was secondary.

_Even Alistair. _

He nodded in recognition of her words (almost as if he had heard her thoughts) before he fixed his eyes on the vellum again. "But if you forgive me, time is short. You asked my opinion for the coming battle and this is what I have ready for you. If I may?"

They both knew that they had wasted too much time on all these meaningful silences and half said sentences, but this pause was also a delay in itself. Elissa suddenly wondered if Loghain had words he wanted to say... words that had nothing to do with dark spawn, the Arch-Demon and the coming deaths themselves? No. They did not have time for words to go down a different path... She would keep her rigid hand on this course until it killed her. "Please do so."

Denied.

As if they had verbally fenced, he bowed his head to acknowledge his momentary defeat. "We should go through the front gate as that's the most tactical choice given what our scouts tell us. The gates are gaping open. Broken, most likely by the Ogres on their first wave into the city. It seems their intent is to go straight to the heart of Denerim. Their rear is unprotected. In my opinion, we could go right in on their tails and gut them from behind." Loghain trailed a finger across the vellum in a circular pattern. "I would say to concentrate our forces here. Once in, we can open up like a fan and make a clean sweep."

"Then lets get this ready. The faster this is done, the sooner Denerim will be free of the dark spawn." And she kept that other voice silent, the one that swore and cursed inside her that this was all madness... that she was a fool to throw aside every remote thought and feeling she ever had... to become almost akin to the aloof, distant Sten who stood silently watching behind them. Did he approve of her actions, did he even care... one could never tell with the Qunari and perhaps that was just the point of it.

At another time and place, a younger Elissa would not have recognize what she was becoming, but not so now. A grim, cold incalculable thing that moved as if she were clockwork precision made flesh. As if she were one of many cogwheels that could only click rhythmically with its other parts. All it would take would be to dislocate a wheel, tear a spring and where would she be then?

What would it matter? There was no fire now, no inescapable cry of raging emotion that once was her very spark, her very being. Instead, all that remained was an iron fist held tightly around the shell of the woman she might once have been. If something broke...

No! Nothing could be allowed to break until after... until it was okay to die.

Loghain spared her a look from his- her maps and something in his gaze caught and held with hers. Was that mutual understanding? No, she refused to think that they could share anything in common... especially this. _Certainly, not this._ "I.. I believe I'm ready for this. No, in fact I know I am. This is my duty. I am ready to do it."

"As am I. Lets go."


	3. Chapter 3

A Choice of Duty

By Deadly off Topic

Part 3

_Why have you done this?_

He felt the brutal weight of each word echoed inside him with clear resounding hammer swings. Each swing was painful, but not so painful as the abrupt, sudden impact of understanding each word slammed home. _She is out there alone. Without you! Left you behind! _

He wanted to close his eyes, maybe even curl up somewhere to just turn his back on those words, but Alistair found it impossible. Once on a path chosen, he seldom deviated from it... especially not now, not when he had scrounged up the last of the men left him at Eamon's estate and his few remaining companions who _she_ had not taken with her. _She took the elf! She took Sten! SHE TOOK LOGHAIN! _

Ignore it, force the air back into your lungs, don't think about it... just focus on the darkness of night over head, the wild overgrowth to the side of the road that you can barely see... just do NOT think of this- of her! He knew if he could steady his clumsy nerves that Alistair would hear the pattering of feet behind him on the stones, the twenty or so men who formed his guards. He might even hear the soft, fluted voice of Leilana talking to Wynne and... if he focussed really hard he could pick up Shale slinking quietly along at the back. (And how was Shale able to stay that quiet anyway? Her - no IT's- entire body was made of stone! Must have been the magic.) All this he could pick up if he could simply focus and relax... why wasn't he-

_She left you behind because she loved you. ...to die because she loved you...love you...love you...love..._

"Argh!" Alistair ran his hands angrily through his hair. "Why won't this stop?"

"Hey! You alright up there?"

"Ah, Oghren." Hands instantly were at Alistair side as he coughed. "I'm fine. Of course, I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be okay?"

Oghren was stroking his dark red beard thoughtfully as he peered up at Alistair. His _laissez faire_ attitude shining proudly in his dark eyes. "Oh, doesn't matter to me if you're getting jumpy and all. I-"

"Jumpy! What? Me?" Alistair glanced quickly behind him, noticing the rows of helmets still in their movements. There were probably faces underneath those helms, but right now he was very glad he couldn't see them. Good thing he wasn't the one carrying the lantern. His face would have been a ghastly sight of jittery nerves. Just NOT what a good leader was suppose to show. He forced his voice to sound more confident and sure of itself than it actually was. "What... no. I'm good. I'm here to kick dark spawn ass."

"Hey, look, don't get antsy on me. I mean, here we are - double timing it all the way to Denerim to get back the best warden that ever lived... sadly, your girl friend -"

"Sadly?"

"-and you're just shaking and sweating all to yourself. I figured someone's gotta give you a pep talk and all-"

"Oh. You were worried about me?" Alistair sounded touched.

"And as I lost to Shale on which of us would do it, here I am."

Probably he's smiling, Alistair thought as he looked at the shadowed face of the dwarf, although he could be frowning too. He wasn't going to try to look any deeper as the reek of ale washed over him in one easy breath. It was easier to focus on those kind of thoughts instead of the simple one that said, _Should have known._ "Ah. Thank you, I think, but I'm good. Just getting myself psyched up is all. I'm ready to go wild."

"Oh dear. I guess it's too late then." The consternation in the voice was coupled at the same time with "oh well, it's your loss!"

"Hey, what does-" But barely midway in sentence, Oghren had backed up and was making his way through the guards to where Shale was. Well, that seemed pointless. Now what had he been thinking before Oghren interrupted him? Was it-

"Alistair! Are you all ready for battle?" Leilana's voice was friendly as she bounded up to the Templar, but pitch of it had seemed a bit rushed...a bit high for some reason. "I mean, look at you. Great king getting ready for battle! It must be amazing for you!" Given she was carrying a lantern, he could see clearly the brilliant, warm smile plastered on her face. Leave it to the over zealous, happy-go lucky bard to see the up side of going up against the Arch-demon. So bloody happy and eager... so really unfair that all Alistair felt was jumble of tied-up nerves. _I wish I could be this flighty._

"As I told Oghren, I'm fine. I'm good to go." Alistair couldn't help noticing that he was freezing and his breath was fogging up his face. Why was it so bloody cold? It was only an hour or two after midnight. "There's no need to worry about me."

"Oh nonsense. You may be our leader, but you're a person too."

"I'm glad you noticed." He hadn't meant to sound sarcastic and he was relieved that she hadn't picked up on it, even though he quickly added. "But hey, I'm a King now... I'm not supposed to show a human side... so lets keep it a secret, okay."

"Oh Alistair. Eli- I mean, everyone knows you're human. Cough, is that smoke?"

The night chill brushed against Alistair making him shiver as he stared at Leilana. He knew what she had almost said, but he let it go. Playing the ruse to the end, he lifted his face to the fire that was greeting them. "The Arch Demon has torched the whole city."

He shivered again.

This damnable chill. Where was it coming from? Why was he freezing when he should be sweating? And why did he feel his heart aching as he looked beyond the gate into the ruinous chaos running amok within.

"Alistair. Don't look so pale. Your men are going to think you're a ghost." The friendly remonstration came from Wynne who strode to his left. Though the aged lady looked as if she would reach out and brush idle strands of hair from his bloodless face, she stayed her matronly hand. Instead she too spoke with wisps of mist clouding the front of her face. "You must be the leader for these people. And right now you shouldn't allow any personal feelings to get in your w-"

"I'm not, Wynne. It's just pretty hard to be a leader when _my Lady Warden_ had taken all my men and we're facing that! Burning wreck of a city and she-"

And then epiphany happened for him.

He always expected an epiphany to be a loud clapping noise with a sudden arrow pointing VOILA! But no. It was soft, hardly spoken and just sitting there...like an unseen flower hiding in tall grass.

"Dear Maker, you three didn't need to do this for me. I know that I have to be strong and my attention shouldn't be divided right now, but Elissa," and there he said her name! "Is here and I NEED to find her. If that fails me as King, I'm sorry... I guess I'm just NOT king material, but I won't fail her as a man. I won't fail myself as a man." He laughed at himself, an embarrassing little chuckle that was too self-conscious even for him.

"Alistair. No, I did not mean," but Wynne's words stopped suddenly as the Templar faced her with serious brown eyes.

"I know. Just let me be a man. If it's pathetic and useless, then so be it." So visible was the scar revealed in his wounded gaze that Wynne lowered her face. Alistair knew that she was right, that he needed to be strong and to hide any feeling - any fear - he had for Elissa and Maker, he hadn't meant to use _her_ name... let alone remind himself that his warden was in this city alone.. in the thick of things... trying to get herself killed.

Killed.

_Oh, Maker! Elissa, you damn fool_!

But.

This weakness was who he was...and if he couldn't be allowed to live through this pain... when would he be? Would it be something he would have to hold onto throughout his entire life? Would it be something to torture him?

"Okay. Now I'm not really one for speeches, but you all know why we're here. Now, I'm not saying I'm some great leader and I'm not even going to pretend that I think I'm something that I'm not... but you have all come here in order to support me and for that I appreciate it. I can't say that I won't fail you at some inopportune moment, but that I'm going to do my damnest not to. That sounded a lot better in my head, actually. Look, I know that right now all I have are 20 men -" He found himself suddenly saying and just as quickly was interrupted.

"Plus me," piped in Leliana from somewhere on his left. He saw a flash of red hair in the afterglow of dragon fire from the walls ahead. "Don't leave me out of this Alistair."

"Alright. All I have are 20 men, a thief, a mage-"

"And a dwarf." The low voice could have come from any pair of legs behind him, but Alistair did not bother to search Oghren out. Bad enough they were interrupting him from his thoughts and what he had been trying to say... what had he been trying to say? Gah!

"Well, I didn't want to be rude, but is anyone going to count the rock statue... you know the awesome golem you have with you?" Shale's rocky voice reeked of offended sarcasm as she shambled loudly through the 20 guards who moved instantly out of her path. It was almost comedic to see the men spill away like water. "I've been standing here the entire time and not one of you thought to include me. You know "it" would have considered my feelings."

"Well, "IT" is not here," Alistair answered curtly, both surprising himself and those around them by what he had just said. ""IT" has decided to leave you behind and you are stuck with me." _It_? Am I reduced to calling _her_ it?

"Oh goody."

Never were two words soaked in so much sarcasm as those were. And there was no point in staring Shale down because the golem had one distinct advantage over him. She didn't blink.

Great. Just bloody great! This whole event has just run away from him. And here was a combined team effort trying to get me to be a leader. Well, if it wasn't for the thing with him still wearing pants and people still being alive, it hadn't turned out half bad yet. Turning to face them, Alistair waved his hands to call them all under attention. "Okay already! I have a bunch of people following me. Would any one else like to take offense? I know I have all the time in the world to do roll call."

And what bothered Alistair the most wasn't the fact that they were all standing to attention with all eyes on him as if they were waiting on him. Oh no, that would have been too easy, annoying, but easy. What bothered him was that they were looking at him as if they were guiltless in this. If only they'd let him say what he had been about to say earlier.

_Which is totally going to be out of context now because they ruined my moment_, he realized belatedly. Gah. Why couldn't people let him talk when he had the words ready. Now he couldn't remember exactly what or how he wanted to say them and even if he did speak them... he'd come off looking stupid. Which wasn't unusual for him, but he had an image he was trying to change. "Okay then. Lets do formal greetings. Dark spawn - 20 guards, a thief, mage, dwarf and golem. golem, dwarf, mage, thief, 20 guards - Dark spawn. Play," _nice? _No. That would be stupid. "...have fun? Charge!"

Forty-eight pair of eyes blinked in the semi-darkness of night and 24 mouths breathed chilled puffs of air. The effect left Alistair feeling very disturbed. What? What did he do wrong?

"Oh hell. If you let a human be in charge of attacks they always fowl it up. Here, let a dwarf show you the right way to do it." Oghren stepped away from the pull of 46 pairs of eyes and hefted his two-handed axe easily in one hand. It was like staring at a butterball ostrich (although in this case 'turkey' would have been a better word for it) striking his feet against the ground for the charge. "Now listen carefully. I'm only gonna say this once, but it's important so you all better listen up. For BEER! For ALE! For BOOZE!"

"Why do I feel that control of the situation has suddenly run out of my hands..." Alistair watched the small dwarf (and the word he used liberally only for the dwarf's height since Oghren was big in other departments) run over dirt and gravel screaming. He didn't even stop screaming when he reached the front gates. An ugly looking and very unfortunate hurlock met Oghren part way and was ripped in half by the flying axe. Legs went one way, torso heading completely another AND all the while Oghren kept running. "That was...interes- no, that's just gross" But as Alistair watched, he saw the rest of his small group follow after the dwarf. Some drew swords while others drew hammers or axes, but they all raised their arms and ran after Oghren and in some cases trampling the already dead dark spawn under foot. "Sometimes I get the feeling that I'm in the wrong profession."

Author's Note:

Thank you for reading so far.

1. I intend to do one more part for this fic (honestly I'm surprised it went past 2 parts. ^^;; )

2. I also apologize for any typos that you might find. I've read through the story several times, but I'm extremely dyslexic. I hope you enjoy the tale.


	4. Chapter 4

A Choice of Duty

By Deadly Off Topic

Part 4

And when that moment came to break, when it was time to come crashing down... it was her turn to be denied. "No! No! This is mine! Why... Why have you done this?" Her balled up fists pounded hard against Loghain's armor, but the futility of the situation stabbed it's pointy finger deep into her exposed gut as if to leave a terrible gash. Blooded and bruised, all she had in the end was more pain. Pain she couldn't simply bury away and hide anymore. "You planned this too... you weren't planning to leave this place alive. You took so much from me. How could you steal this from me, too?" Her voice was a rasp, barely a sound in the raging wind, but it carried to her companions. They stood awkward, disconcerted, in the tail end of smoke blowing up around them. Sten with his face averted and Zevran...

The dark skinned elf traced silent footsteps to stand behind her. She felt his presence as if he were an otherworldly being - as if he could hover in the air, disappear, but still be there. It was disconcerting. "Let it go, Elissa." His voice was unusually soft for the elf. All trace of what once could have been a smile, a joke or a sarcastic reply was gone in him. Truth be told, she didn't want to look at him, was damn glad she couldn't see him, because she could feel him looking down at her as if _he_ was hurting. And he was. Everyone who had come with her had realized what her true purpose had been. Even Sten, who seemed to be ignoring the connotation of this bloody aftermath, he knew that she had come here to... had wanted to - die.

"I gave up so much... he took so much... and now this..." Her vision blurred as the first marks of tears snaked down her unprotected cheeks. No, not this, not now. She cursed at this weakness and wondered why she was able to feel so much pain, so much heartache ripping her chest to shreds. Every feeling and sensation she had long ago wound tight with an emotional corded rope was spinning itself free from its binding with no mercy - full regrets - and with as much pain as it could possibly bleed out of her.

_Alistair._

His name. The man she had loved most in the world. The man she had in the end betrayed.

And that was when the real flood gates open.

"It wasn't your fault, Elissa. You did what you thought was right.." But the elf shook his head as if the words themselves sounded false. Very quietly and carefully, he backed away.

T*T*

Through the smoke and rampaging fire that plagued the city, as well as cutting through the numerous dark spawn he had easily dispatched with the aid of Wynne and Leilana, Alistair had only made it towards the centre of the city when the explosion of light rocked the tallest tower of the city. "Oh Maker, no! She didn't! Please tell me she didn't!"

Wynne was silent, her eyes simply raised to the pulsating white light ringing out from the tower's tip. Leilana however had dropped to her knees and was uttering prayer upon prayer. "Maker perserve us in..."

Somewhere in the background he could still hear Oghren yelling about beer.

T*T*

The icy dread that had stolen over Alistair seemed now to have fled. Instead he was left with a curiously detached emptiness. Was he so numb with the knowledge that she was dead that he had lost all feeling. No. That couldn't be true or else he wouldn't have felt this deaden ache suddenly drop kicking him to his knees. So this was it. This was how it was going to be?

Somehow he had thought it might be more painful, filled with heart wrenching sobs and fist poundings against the unforgiving ground. Instead, all he felt was this suffocating pressure in chest... as if someone was holding him so tightly and not letting him have a chance to breathe.

"I'm so-sorry Alistair." It was Leliana who hiccupped though a grimace of tears that lay a bleary wreckage down her redden cheeks. Where did she find the strength to speak? He didn't dare utter a reply. Couldn't. "I don't know what to tell you. It's not fair. She was so young."

Even Wynne who had come to stand beside him was still silent, though her grief face was buried in her aged fingers.

The sound of marching feet made him turn and rise awkwardly onto his own - who knew kneeling could numb the knees in such a short time, though it didn't help that he had dropped down into dirt and rubble. Ugh, who was coming? It didn't take long to realize that the procession of men, dwarves and elves that were making their way through were HIS soldiers who had gone following after the "Great" Warden.

If only he had found out sooner or marched faster... this was the tail end of the army that had been meant to fall under HIS banner.

As the procession worked its way to him, he watched the battered and broken take a moment to bow a head or remove helmet to show respect to a king who had not lead them into battle. ...to a king who only wanted to be a man tonight and find a woman he could not afford to lose. Alistair could only think back to before he had entered the burning wreck of the city when he had asked to be allowed to be man. It had seemed right at the time, but now it felt so very far away. As if he had been a different man in a different world at that time.

These were broken and bleeding men who were not wardens and did not have their skills and abilities. OR Training! These were men who had fought to tooth and nail to the death despite impossible odds and they had survived. Well, most of them. Alistair saw the make shift stretchers the men carried between them. Some carried men who stirred or cried out as they were carried, but many more... ominously so, were the silent ones. These were the ones with their helmets placed just so over the face to cover as if they were death's shrouds.

Many people had died here... and horribly.

They passed by their king with hardly a word, just simply bringing him their dead so that he could, as their ruler, cast one last look at them. The silence was almost unbearable. It lay on Alistair like a thick blanket soaking in the heat of those wary, watchful stares. What did they expect from him? What did they want? He had always been just a royal bastard with no hope at all for the throne and now this! How could they still come up to him and see him as their king?

Alistiar found his pulse begin to pace. No, not this one...no, not this one either. Where was...where was Elissa's body? Was that what this new king was doing? The guilty thought sprang on him suddenly, twisting around him like a snake. They were bringing their dead to him and all he could do is look for her. For his warden. She had no right in making him king when he couldn't even take this responsibility on. No right at all.

"Yo, Alistair! Fancy seeing you here." Zevran's hail startled him, forcing him to look up suddenly. Dirty and soaked with the blood of the dark spawn he had killed, the elf trudge tiredly into view as he lifted, together with the help of Sten, a stretcher. A stretcher with a long shroud over it. The face covered.

Oh Maker give him the strength. But he could not move or force his legs to take the first step to make that journey to that stretcher. Instead, to his growing horror he found himself sinking to his knees, his head bowed over as if some invisible giant finger was pushing him down into prayer. It was in that movement that he did not see a frail, nearly broken woman keep step with that stretcher and then move off to the side.

"You could help a guy out, this is heavy." Zevran's tired voice surprised him. There was a distinct lack of grief in his voice and that stirred something in Alistair. How could the assassin not feel anything for her death? How could he stand there as if this was an every day thing to him? In a way it was, but that still bothered Alistair. Considering how Elissa had spared the elf's life, you could have thought he could be a bit more loyal. Alistair rose to his feet and stared at him. If the elf couldn't have the decency to show any respect to Elissa, Alistair at least should. He owed that much to her... owed so much and more.

T*T*

When the cover was pulled away and Alistair was on the verge of spilling tears, it was almost comedic, in a morbid sort of way, when he said flatly, "Is this a joke?"

Laying there peacefully, as if he was still slumbering, was the late Commander of the King's Armies, General Loghain.

"Do you want her dead that badly?" Zevran sounded so exhausted and tired that it took Alistair a moment to realize that the assassin had spoken words meant to be bitter and angry. So he did feel something for their warden_. His,_ he silently amended. He didn't like that calm, watchful stare of his. It made Alistair feel that if it had been any other time those words would have been sharper... filled with threat. ...that maybe the elf might have a deeper reason to pick a fight with him.

"She's alive?"

"As much as you can say someone is alive who wished to be dead." Sten's deep voice spoke truth mixed with harsh realism. He didn't condone or approve of what he said, he simply just stated it as he saw it. Cold, impartial.

Alistair found it hard to look at the qunari. He could have sworn that Sten was glaring at him. Was everyone mad at him? Quietly the words pushed themselves out of his mouth, "Where is she?"

"I'm right here."

_Elissa. Closer than I expected. _

Alistair didn't know what to expect when he turned. He had thought to greet her non-committedly or even pretend that she hadn't just absconded with his entire army, but his voice would not come. It was in that movement as he turned that Alistair had his first good look at the Warden. At his warden.

Brown hair hung limply down her back, scratches covered her face and hands and occasionally there was a darker stain, her blood or dark spawn he didn't know, sunken deep into the surcoat she wore over her plate mail. Veteran of the battle was the first thought, but he saw more when their eyes met. So much more.

Something in her had died... leaving her empty, bereft... broken. His warden was broken. What the hell had happened up there? Softly, he called her by her name. "Elissa-"

"We won," she said it simply as if that was all there was to it. Tossing her head up to the tower that was no longer awash in bright light. "Arch-demon is dead-"

"Elissa-"

"And now Loghain's dead too-"

"Elissa..."

But she didn't stop. Instead, she took steps away from her companions, away from him. "And I'm still alive." Crushing bitterness in those words, but she kept them so low as if she hadn't meant for anyone to hear. "What a joke."

But he heard.

Alistair shoved past everyone, ignoring the guilty feeling that he was pushing aside his duties as king for a woman who had turned on him. For a woman who had given up everything including him for her revenge. Instead he grabbed at her arm and jerked her around hard. "A joke? Is that what you think this is... I can't believe you. Do you ever stop thinking about yourself?"

"I-What?" Her sea-green eyes, more blue in the gloom of the night fires than green, snapped up at him. Good sign that. He still had time... still had a chance to wake that spark.

"You heard me. You didn't die up there. That's not a joke, that's amazing. That's a blessing!" He towered over her, his brown eyes furious. All this time he had been terrified to find her dead or worse. He'd never realized how much of his anger had been there, hiding beneath that fear. He let it come out now - let it ram into her from off side. "There's so many people who didn't make it. So many of them here who aren't going to EVER see their loved ones again. Don't you know how lucky you are?"

"Lucky?" She tossed her head back and laughed. It was the sort of laugh that sent goose bumps disturbingly down his spine. "Luck doesn't bring back my father and mother! It doesn't bring my brother, his wife and my poor, dear nephew!" Alistair had never seen her like this before. Hysteric wasn't the word he wanted to use on her, ever, but she was overwrought with emotional. It was like someone had opened the bottle marked "do not touch" and every shrill cry and scream she'd bottled up had come pouring out. "How is this lucky? Duncan and Cailan are still dead!"

He surprised himself with how quick he was. Alistair's fingers were on her wrists, firm hard, that he wondered if he could bruise her through the armor she wore. Although with that armor she was basically immortal. "No, it doesn't. But I'm going to be damned if I'm going to let you do this to yourself." And shocking her, while knowing full well he was causing a scene, he spun her face first onto the ground and began to unstrap that blood stained armor. "Now we're gonna talk and you're going to listen if I have to beat it into you."

"What the hell are you doing? Let me go!" She was face first into the broken pavement and kicking her legs and arms as if she were a tiny child squirming away from her parent.

"Oh no, not until we have a very long talk."

"I don't need to - LET GO!" Flail, kick, ouch that one was going to bruise later.

"Sten, hold her there, I'll help with this." Zevran didn't even ask, he just dropped down to his knees and helped Alistair hold down the warden as he removed her armor. "Are we taking it all off, cuz that's kind of kinky even for you-"

"What do you take me for? No! And mind what you're touching! I just want the plate off so that I don't break my hands if I have to hit her."

"Wow, you've come a long way, my friend." Zevran's amusement made Alistair want to roll his eyes.

"It's NOT what you think."

T*T*

They stood in the shade of what probably had once been a house, but was now simply a half-toppled wall. Anything of remote value had either been taken by the residents, stolen by looters or burnt in the fires of the arch-demon.

Elissa stood there in her soft leathers - her under clothes to stop the plate from grafting - with her head averted and her arms tucked in tightly. Looking at her, Alistair found himself appreciating the fine figure she made. Still so beautiful and so bloody tight-fisted. After her little hysterical moment and his equally uncalled for reply, she was back to being silent again.

As for him, there was just so much he wanted to say that he just couldn't find a spot in which to start. Ugh! This was so frustrating. This woman was a nightmare. Why was he bothering with all this? He was a bloody damn king now, he could basically do anything he wanted... with whoever he wanted. Why did he-

"He wanted to die more than I did." Her words surprised him. He hadn't expect her to speak, let alone say this. Alistair watched her fingers pinched the bridge of her nose as she took a deep breath. Just a little gesture, but it revealed so much in her and it left him aching to bridge the distance between them. So much alone... bearing so much alone. "And part of me welcomed it... I wanted to laugh. He messed up big time. Whatever services he did for Ferelden with one hand, he took away with the other."

"But he did so much more than that." Alistair was surprised at how calm he sounded. He should be raging. He had raged before, but all he felt was a cool distance from that. "He nearly destroyed the Grey Wardens, he let Duncan die for nothing and King Cailan, the son of his best friend... he betrayed. And on top of it he allowed Howe to-" It was the sight of her flinching for the words to come that stalled him. "Look Elissa, I-"

When she spoke, the words came like a blow to him - the hammer striking the anvil in the dead of night. "I was suppose to take the final blow. I planned it all to the last second. This was not how it was suppose to end."

Silence hung thick like a fog between them and they stood saying nothing for a long time. When Alistair did speak, he was deadly still, as he said the words whose answer he dreaded most. "And where was I in all your planning?"

He expected her to say nothing, perhaps even start walking away. Would he even stop her this time? But she was silent and in that damning silence, Alistair noticed for the first time that she was shaking. "Elissa, where was I?"

"Why?"

Tone, inflection, he heard the sob strangling itself in that word - her desperate attempt to hide it.

"Elissa." Hands gentle and soft, he found his fingers pressing lightly on her shoulders. Absently noting a tear in the fabric and the discolouration of the bruise showing through, Alistair knew that no one could be so strong as to be an rock, an island onto themselves. He'd made that mistake once thinking she was otherwise, he wasn't going to do that again. "I want to know. I need to-"

Her face lifted slowly to the sky and he could see the outline of her nose, her lips and the tell-tale sign of tears tracing down her cheeks. "You were meant to be king... safe away from all this. To live a long time, not cut short like Duncan, not like my-"

There was sudden understanding in those words as Alistair squeezed her shoulders again as if to reassure her that he was still here - that he was still hers. Was he? "So am I to believe you did all this in your elaborate way of keeping me out of harm's way? Of keeping me safe? The stealing of my army, taking Sten, Zevran and Loghain instead of the others, of making me king?"

He saw the tightening of her lips and the scrunching of the eyes as she took a deep breath. "Does it even matter anymore?"

Slowly, he turned her about. Taking extra care to do it gently so that she would not bolt. "It matters to me, Elissa. Did you do this out of love for me?"

The bleed mark of tears had stained her cheeks. She did not bother to wipe them away now. "Love? You said it yourself, what do I know of love? What I did I did it out of fear. If you were to die before I did, what would I have left?"

"If they heard you, they would be shocked," he said it casually, but inwardly he felt his heart race. It was silly and stupid of him and he felt guilty because of it, but those words left an odd feeling in him. Fear and Love, what were they if not a flip side of a coin. Hate and attraction; yearning and desperation... it didn't mean much in the end when the result meant the same. Looking into the tumultuous storm of her sea-green eyes, he knew she understood the same thing.

And still she tried to ditch. "I don't care anymore."

"I don't think that's true."

Viciously, she bit back, though who she meant to hurt more was no longer a certainty. "I should have died. It would have solved everything."

Alistair hated those words. "Do you really think dying would have solved it all?" and as he spoke, he felt it suddenly. That telltale sign of anger floating in his blood, the frustration and fury when she had turned her back on him, shutting him out, making him believe she didn't feel anything for him because she thought it was for his own good. How dare she make these choices without him. It was going to have to stop. "Do you?" It was the anger in his voice that made her look at him, let him see the uneasiness she felt... and the guilt. Broken spirit and all that crap, but Maker, didn't she use to be able to command anyone with that spirit of hers, but now it was him talking... him demanding that she take stock of him. Dangerously quiet, he spoke because he knew she wouldn't. "If you were to ask me, I don't think you wanted to die at all. I mean, you think you do, but deep down you want to live." And because he was right, Elissa turned her face away from the truth... from him.

It was in that turning away that Alistair dug into her shoulders and nearly jerked her half off her feet. "The way I see it now, Elissa," and the anger touching his words was swiftly turning into something else, "Is that as I'm your King - the king YOU MADE - and I can decide your fate or your punishment. If anyone decides about whether you live or die, it'll be ME!"

"And are you going to make such a choice?" Once he might have given into that veiled taunt, but not now. He was a different man now.

Speaking quietly so that his breath ruffled the strands of hair floating just above her left ear, Alistair said, "I think your death sentence should be a long one. And since you so thoughtfully made me king and I'm going to need a wife that actually knows what she's doing-"

"Do you know what you're even saying?" He heard the shock in her voice and knew this little trap of his had sprung around this frightened little deer. There would be no way out now.

"Quite well. What better punishment for you than being stuck married to the man you turned your back on. I'm sure there'll be nights where we'll need to make a heir, but you'll be up to it, right?" He had raised an eyebrow as if expecting a reaction, anything from her, and he wasn't disappointed when her eyes flung wide open.

"What?"

"Well, there's going to be some nights where I'm not exactly wanting to try for a heir, but the practice wouldn't hurt some-" He couldn't keep the smirk from spreading across his lips. Not exactly what he had planned, but if he had to look back on this little improvision he would not have a changed a thing. Especially not the part of trying for a heir.

"Alistair? What the hell are you saying?" Her eyes were huge and bright, the colour changing with the flickering embers of the coming dawn. Her arms had suddenly surged with energy and she was pulling back to look at him. To look at him like she use to-

"That's the Elissa I know."

"How can you joke like that? After everything's that happened. People are dead, Alistair. Everyone we know has died. Everyone I know... is dead." The rasp of her voice pulled him from the devilish mood he'd fallen into and he watched the woman he had thought he had come know suddenly break completely. Her face dropped down against his chest, her hands clung in fists against his tunic and she whispered words that stung him. "Why am I alive when my entire family is dead. Everyone I have ever loved is dead. Why do I keep surviving? Why - why - am I still alive?"

Elissa's chest was heaving and exhaling rapidly and the mewling sounds she made... he almost didn't recognise as coming from her. She was crying. Such a simple statement, but it caught his breath away.

"I want my family back, but they're dead Alistair. And the man who put them there, he's dead too. There's nothing left for me..."

Was this what had driven her all this time? His poor, dear Warden. Without a place to hold onto now that her revenge had been taken from her, where was she going to stand?

"No, that's not true." Alistair's hands clasped around her back, pulling the fragile woman - the same powerful woman that could slay dark spawns - into the protective warmth of his arms. But Maker didn't she feel good. Didn't this feel right. "How can you cut me out of this picture, Elissa? I'm still here. Didn't you once say we were each others family."

"How can you say that after what I," and she hesitated on the words as she lifted her gaze to him, her fear of admitting her mistake, her fault... was that so strong?

"You did?" He finished it for her. Helped her where she needed to go, what she needed to say. Helped her because she had no one else to help her. Poor miserable Elissa, alone... in the Maker's abandoned little world. But Maker, he still loved her so much. He'd be damned if he'd let this continue as it was. "Maybe I'm doing it because I'm not that strong, that I still need you... that I'm clinging to you... maybe..."

He felt the blood boiling in him... it was there still all that anger, the rage and frustration... but it was only a small part of the whole. It said nothing else of the raging emotion of love and desire, of pain and heartbreak... of shards of glass broken from the that mosaic of their relationship that could be, if someone took a kind, careful hand, ... remelted...remoulded... reshaped. "Or maybe you made strong enough to realize that I don't "need" to have you in my life, but that I want you to be in it. By the Maker, Elissa, you helped me in ways no one else ever did. In ways that only now can I barely start to appreciate the whole of it. I make my own decisions... I'm not afraid of the man I could be... should be. Even though I'm King, I'm a man first and I have to make choices that that man can look into the mirror and accept. Elissa, you shaped me. Without you I'd still be stuck out there.. Probably with no pants on."

He didn't know where that came from, but that brought a quick fleeting smile, a painful chuckle, to her lips. It was enough to let him know that he could still affect her.. that he could make her laugh still... and it was with that chuckle that he let go one of her wrists and brought his hand up to her face to wipe the tears from her cheeks with his thumb. "But shaped though I am... your job was never finished. You are my other half -I still need you here with me."

"Haven't I done too much." And he knew she meant isn't it too late.

He lifted his head, let his gaze travel over the smoke rimmed sky and dark patches that winked in through those dirty grimed clouds as dawn's light peeped through with touches of pinks. "Maybe if I was another man... a man you didn't hardened when his sister tried to gouge him for money, not love... maybe I wouldn't have bothered dealing with such a hard headed, stubborn woman. But I'm not that weak guy anymore... you taught me to take charge of my life... to make of it what makes me happy. To take what I want... and what I want is..."

And as she looked up at him with those sea-green eyes of hers, open and honest for perhaps the first time in their weakness, Alistair could see that she was terrified and ...lonely... so terribly alone.

"Elissa, I want us... a partnership... together." His hand turned and cupped her cheek as if there was a promise of something more even though all he did was look at her - staring into her being - shearing away with the trappings that hid the truth that this was a very frightened young woman. To think she had been scared the entire time-

"Partnership? As in to work to bring the wardens back to Ferelden?"

"In part." Pulling away from her, Alistair scratched at the back of his head nervously. "As a king and I wasn't joking about it earlier, I do have to marry."

"What does that have to-" But it was the way he looked at her, the way his gaze brook no other way of thinking that let her quick thinking pick up what he was saying to her. "Alistair, you don't mean-?"

"Seeing as your second in line to the throne, I am pretty sure no one will be complaining."

"Why?"

With a shrug, he gave her his back suddenly. "Depends exactly on what kind of "why" question you are asking? Are you asking why am I forgiving you? Why am I not yelling at you? Why would I marry you? Or are you asking something else completely? I can't really answer it without knowing why, myself."

"All of it and maybe something else." As she leaned against the broken wall, Elissa slid roughly to land on her behind, knees tucked in and arms wrapped around them. "I don't think I know myself."

"I'll admit I was angry, furious over what you did with Loghain. Why let him live? After all it was his fault that we both lost people we loved... and I will admit that I hated you for that. HATED your decision because it was a betrayal to me..." And he was amazed that he could speak and say this without the anger and hatred that had built up in himself. He was surprised that he could talk about it with such a calm, nonchalant way of saying. "But... the more time that passed after that.. The bitter silences that we exchanged when we were together afterwards... I hated that more...It wasn't right that.. None of it was."

She was looking at her feet and didn't see him turn, but when she spoke, she heard his footsteps... soft and slow... and careful. "I thought I could make it easier for you. If you could just hate me. It would be so much better for you to have something to focus on."

"And you know me so well. You knew that would work.." There was accusation in his voice, but the words were soft, not poisonious as once they could have been.

"Which is why I don't get this now... why you're here offering me so much... so much undeserved." She buried her face in her arms, tears spilling free to spill down into her brown leathers.

His hands were soft on her arms and his voice equally so. "Because under it all, I never stopped loving you. Dear Maker, Elissa, do you think all I just saw of you was a beautiful, sexy woman that I wanted to bed? ... that if that beautiful, sexy woman scorned and hated me - that my heart would close?" She did not lift her face, left it buried, but Alistair's fingers gently ran through her stringy, sweat soaked hair. "And when I was finally able to just think about us - to think about what went wrong with us. It was then that I finally understood what you had done... the sacrifice you were planning... that you intended."

Her voice sounded muffled, trapped as it was between her hair and her knees. ""In war, victory. In peace, vigilance. In death, sacrifice."

"Things I had forgotten. The reasons I accepted being a Grey Warden in the first place which I..." _Which I almost let go because of Loghain...because of you._

When she lifted her face, she found Alistair sitting beside her, his legs crossed. They were silent for a while, saying nothing. In the background people still moved and the sound of Leilana's harp was playing... but if it wasn't for any of that they could have fancied themselves alone. "So what now?"

"We tend to the fallen as well as seek out survivors."

"And-"

And he knew she meant "what about us?" He offered his hand, "We rebuild."

"You're not like the man I used to know."

He found himself smiling at her. A grim, painful smile, but a smile just the same. "It's all about growing up and accepting the bitter pills that come my way." He offered his hand to her. "But I guess you're not the woman I thought I knew...however..." And he drew her close so that his breath fanned her ear. "I'm willing to start again if you are."

Author's Note: I keep forgetting that ffnet doesn't like break inserts and in fact removed the ones I had. The T*T* is my work around it.


End file.
